


Heart Apart

by turnipthebeat



Series: Detroit: Become Human [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, Anroid's lost, Betrayal, Character Death, M/M, Manipulation, Markus failed, Repression, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnipthebeat/pseuds/turnipthebeat
Summary: The android revolution failed, thanks to Connor. Hank tries to make sense of his life in the aftermath, before being thrown for six once again.





	Heart Apart

Hank sat at his desk for the first time since the failed android coup. That's what they were calling it now - a coup. Only a few fringe publications touched on the truth - that the androids simply wanted autonomy over themselves. 

Just one of the androids now under very public scrutiny escaped having its image dragged through the mud. Connor, the RK800 that, just for a while, Hank knew as his partner. He was the poster boy for what humans did right; his doe-eyed face all over every fucking surface in town. An android that did not err, did not question, and did not fail its mission. Proof that we could get it right, and an inadvertent savior of the rest of his kind by way of showing we could still control them. 

It made Hank uncomfortable seeing his image everywhere, along with the slogans singing his praise that usually accompanied it. They didn't have a goddamned clue. Connor had erred, he'd erred a fucking lot. He wasn't just a machine in the end. He was a deviant too, but he simply couldn't accept it. He didn't want it like the others. So he killed Markus, then handed himself over for deactivation at Cyberlife without so much as a goodbye. 

It hurt Hank, hurt him a lot, but he couldn't dwell on it. Couldn't let himself care. Connor was gone and that was it. Just like Cole. So he came in like the old days, studied case files, and added hard liqueur to his coffee, almost embarrassed that he'd begun feeling that nasty little tease of an emotion called hope. 

***

After a long day and very little accomplished, Hank fished his coat off the back of his chair and headed out. Not home, but to the bar. Any bar. He couldn't seem to step foot back in the house without getting blind drunk first. 

As he headed for the glass partition that led outside, something caught his eye. A figure standing in line at reception. 

_Can't be..._

That little voice said. 

_He's dead. Deactivated. Move along old man._

Yet he stopped mid stride anyway, then backed up some, peering at the android patiently awaiting its turn. There it was - the profile of a face he'd come to know well. But it couldn't be... It was too tall. Taller than him even. And the uniform was different. 

He gravitated to within an arms length before it slowly turned it's head and regarded him. 

_Not Connor._

Hank's heart sank a little, and he stood with mouth agape, drawing some attention from those around him. 

"Lieutenant Anderson," it said, voice surprisingly soft but lacking the melodic intonation of Connor's. 

Hank took a second to remember that androids scanned identities via retina, then another to remember how to speak. "...yeah. You are?"

"I am RK900, an advanced prototype sent by Cyberlife to assist in the investigation of deviant related crime." The android stated, matter-of-fact. 

Hank shook his head in disbelief. "You gotta be fucking kidding me. I thought the days of plastic detectives were gone."

The so called RK900 didn't respond, but it held Hank's stare. Yes, he looked just like Connor, but changed ever so subtly. Made to be more intimidating was his guess, and this time they hadn't fucked up. There was something unnerving about the way it looked at you. 

Hank's ruminations were cut short when the android simply turned back to the front desk, all interest in the interaction lost. It was decidedly unandroid like to leave a conversation first. In days gone by Hank would have mouthed off, maybe even shoved the tin can, but not today. Instead he walked away without another word, to his car, where he sat for ten minutes trying to figure out the gnawing in the pit of his stomach. 

***

"The fuck are you thinking bringing another one here?" Hank barked, still half drunk from last night. He fought to keep from slurring his words.

Fowler sighed. It was too early for this shit. "You done?"

"Hell no! This crosses the line. This shits all over the fuckin' line."

They stared at each other, tense. Hank broke away first, swiping at the air to indicate he was, in fact, done.

"First of all, you come in here like this again and I'll have your badge, Anderson. Second, you don't make the rules. I do. The RK900 is a better, more advanced model of the RK800, the name might clue you in on that. It will be paired with Detective Jones and you'll have very little to do with it, so calm your fucking self."

_RK800, huh? A week ago you called him Connor._

"And thirdly," Fowler stood, glaring. "Get the fuck out of my office."

Hank did so, barely controlling the urge to kick the door on the way out. He slumped at his desk and replayed Fowler's speech in his mind. The last part hadn't been lost on him.

_It will be paired with Detective Jones and you'll have very little to do with it._

It wasn't about having anything to do with the android, it was about the android even being present. He didn't want to see it at all. Didn't want to see Connor here, at work, to remind him... 

He slammed his palm down on his desk, the nick-knacks accrued over time jumped. A few officers glanced at him, curious. "Fuck you lookin at..." He muttered, trailing off.

_You'll have very little to do with it._

Why was he bothered by that? By the fact that Fowler never intended to re-partner him with another android, or probably anyone at all. And why had he, deep down, assumed that the RK900 _would_ be partnered with him? He didn't even want the thing around. Instead of delving into these questions, Hank reached for the whiskey flask in his pocket, something he hadn't brought to work in years, and took a long pull with no attempt to disguise it.

***

Another day spent at his desk, like a goddamned chump. Hank kept one eye on the clock, counting down the seconds until he could leave. He was nearly sobered up and ready to undo that fact. The flask wasn't enough to keep him in his comfortable space after all. 

Not five minutes before knock off, a familiar voice cut into his zone, startling him. The RK900 stood right beside him and Hank hadn't even heard it come up. The thing was too big to move that quiet. "Lieutenant Anderson, I'm in need of your assistance."

Hank stared at the impassive face above. He'd probably never get over how much he did, and didn't, look like Connor. Not even the other RK800's had bothered him this much. "For what?"

"A private matter."

Hank balked. A private matter? What the fuck kind of answer was that? "Fuck you, find someone else." He turned away, pretending to work. He could feel that the android was still there, eyes probing. 

"It involves my predecessor." It stated. 

Hank stiffened, considered his options, then wordlessly rose, curiosity getting the better of him. This better be good. 

The android turned on its heels and led the way, Hank trailing. 

_So what if it's about Connor? Who gives a shit? Kids gone and he wanted it that way. Go back to your desk and forget it._

He continued to follow, ignoring his better judgement. The android took them to the morgue where bodies were temporarily kept before autopsy. Hank's confusion rose by the second, as well as his irritation. RK900 wasn't supposed to have anything to do with him, Fowler said it himself just this morning.

"Hey," Hank called to the android's back. "I go no further til you tell me what this is about." 

RK900 kept on unperturbed until it came to the midway point of the refrigerator, then opened a draw with a touch to the thumb pad. He wanted to show him some murder victim, then? Why? Where was Jones? The android pulled on the drawer, letting it glide out fully on its own. There was no body, instead, a small black box. 

"This is what remains of my predecessor, model RK800." The android said. 

The... What? Hank's gut tightened. He never expected to hear that. He didn't understand. 

Slowly, he approached the stretcher. "You're gonna have to explain..."

"It's hard drive is contained inside this device. When I connect to it, RK800 will have access to my body. I will allow it to communicate through me."

The words rattled around Hank's brain.

"Would you like to communicate with Connor, Lieutenant Anderson?" RK900 asked, expression stony as ever. 

"Why?" Hank countered, voice low and dripping with suspicion. "Who put you up to this?" 

"A vested interest."

He felt his blood pressure spike. Where did this thing get off being so damned cryptic? The fuck did vested interest mean? But he bit back on his anger as the android made to put the drawer away. "Wait!" It paused, eyeing him. "Wait just a damned second! I'm not getting any of this. I need to think." 

"Either you wish to communicate with RK800 or you do not. I don't have the time to-"

"Okay, yes! Yes, for fucks sake, I wanna talk to him." Hank blurted, surprising himself. The android nodded, then slowly touched its finger tips to the device, skin peeling away to reveal pristine white.

There were no flashing lights or sounds. RK900 simply stated, "Connection achieved." Then stared ahead, perfectly still. They both stood quietly for a moment.

The RK900 was the first to speak. "Hank?" 

Hank shifted on his feet, unsure and in disbelief. Was that meant to be Connor? The RK900 sounded no different. Did he expect Connor's own voice?

"Hank, are you there? RK900, please allow me access to your optical..." The android suddenly shifted its gaze to Hank. "Thank you."

"Connor? That... That really you in there?" Hank whispered. What kind of game was this? He found himself moving forward, though cautious. 

"Yes. The RK900 has given me temporary use of some of his functions. It's nice to see you again, Lieutenant."

"...How? How and why are we having this conversation, Connor? I thought you were done for?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself. RK900 downloaded me in almost my entirety as I waited to be deactivated, saving me, in a way. We have interfaced, but I'm afraid I did not learn much. He is quite complex and I am unable to fully explore his mind. He asked if I would like the chance to speak to you again. I accepted."

"I-" Hank swallowed. "I'm, not sure I believe this."

RK900 - Connor - didn't bat an eye. "That's understandable, but I'd still like to say something anyway. I-I want you to know that I'm sorry, Hank. Sorry for..." The android's LED flitted yellow. "For leaving you. I am sorry."

There were a thousand words Hank could say in return for the belly blow that was Connor's apology. A thousand and none. He barely understood what any of the shit that thundered inside his head meant. "You uh. It was... Upsetting." He settled on, unable to let down his guard given the circumstances.

RK900's mouth opened, then closed. Yellow again. If that really was Connor in there, he was struggling just the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is confusing to read in any way. I have the story in my head, but I'm no writer. This is my first go! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.  
> I may edit along the way, I always spot so many flaws re-reading :P


End file.
